


by my side

by tgtchm



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgtchm/pseuds/tgtchm
Summary: Richard and Jeremy share a fag on set





	by my side

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally published on the 23rd November 2015 (by me under a different username) and I'm reuploading it now as a process of moving my works from one account to the other. it's been edited for punctuation errors but nothing else.
> 
> prompt: Richard visits Jeremy on the set of the Bridget Jones movie (Jeremy is in it and he looks finnnnnne in his suit) and Richard can't get over how dapper Jeremy looks.

“Big film star now, are you?” Richard asks, sidling up to Jeremy.

Jeremy turns and grins easily, fag drooping from his lips, and Richard nearly melts into a puddle of goo. It’s fairly easy to pretend he’s not attracted to Jeremy, when he is wearing race overalls, or his usual get up of a button-up and jeans. But he can barely control himself when Jeremy is in a suit—which he is today, wearing a blue shirt and matching blue tie.

“Jealous, Hammond? Have you ever been on a proper film set before? Most of the cameras are taller than you,” he points out with a grin, nudging Richard with his elbow. “Come on, we’ll go for a fag.”

They turn and walk away from the mass of people, trying desperately to ignore the paps across the street. “Yes, haha, funny,” Richard deadpans, tamping down how Jeremy looks makes him feel.

They turn a corner and walk down an alleyway, the sudden shade making Richard shiver a bit. He feels dreadfully underdressed in just a t-shirt and jeans, hair unbrushed. He’d rolled out of bed earlier this morning to a text from Jeremy with an address and instructions to meet him somewhere: it would have all been very mysterious if Jeremy hadn’t boasted to him and James both earlier that week in the pub that he was filming a cameo.

Jeremy wordlessly offers him the packet, but he shakes his head. “You know I’ve bloody given up.”

“There are very few pleasures in life, Hammond,” Jeremy sighs, reaching into his jacket pocket for his lighter. “Smoking is one of them. Don’t deprive yourself.”

Richard says nothing as he watches Jeremy pull out his lighter and light his fag, admiring him. How can he look so damn dapper and suave in that suit? It’s not humanly possible. It _shouldn’t_ be. Guiltily, he stares at the floor, scuffing his toe in the dirt, ignoring the way Jeremy looks, hand to his mouth—

“So why’d you invite me? Why not James?” he blurts, the thought only occurring to him as the words leave his mouth.

Jeremy looks taken aback for a moment—just a brief flash of it in his eyes—but he smiles easily again, blowing smoke in the air. “Don’t take it personally, Hammond. I needed one of you to witness that I actually am in a Hollywood movie, and I didn’t want to hear James blithering on about everything. He’d probably faint dead away at Renée.”

Richard screws up his face. “Well, you’ve got the right idea there, inviting me. She’s not exactly my type.”

Jeremy looks him up and down, slowly, starting at his toes and ending with his eyes, and tilts his head as he takes a drag. “What _is_ your type, Richard?”

 _You_. He opens his mouth to reply, but shuts it again, aware that he’s a terrible liar and if he tries to answer the question properly he shall get punched. So he snatches the fag from Jeremy’s lips and takes a drag, relishing in the feeling. Jeremy just watches him, eyes dark, and Richard has to repress a shiver. _Fuck_ , he looks so good.

“That’s not an answer,” Jeremy replies, taking the fag back, his fingers brushing Richard’s lips as he does.

“Do you really wanna know?” Richard asks, fingers clenching, perfectly aware he could be cocking everything up, but he’s too far gone now.

Jeremy smirks. “I asked, didn’t I?”

“You. You’re my type, Clarkson, especially you in that damned suit, and I think—” Hammond blurts, before being cut off by Jeremy’s big hand settling on his hip and pulling him close, kissing him hard.

Jeremy tastes like smoke and, faintly, mints, and Richard relaxes into the kiss, whimpering as he buries himself closer, pressing himself up against Jeremy’s chest. All the sexual tension between them bleeds out as their lips move, and Richard feels Jeremy’s hand shift from his hip to his arse.

“You’re very thick, Hamster,” Jeremy mutters, pulling back to take a drag over Richard’s head. “I’ve seen you looking at me, you know.”

Embarrassed, he buries his head in Jeremy’s shoulder, feeling Jeremy’s arms wrap around him. He feels totally safe and secure, even if they’re in some dingy, shitty alleyway within a stone’s throw distance of fifty million cameras and paparazzi.

“Is that why you didn’t invite James?” he asks, rather muffled by Jeremy’s jacket, feeling Jeremy start to laugh.

“Yes, you fucking nutter. That’s why I didn’t invite James,” Jeremy replies fondly, and Richard smiles, totally content.


End file.
